Happy New Year and New Family 2012!

Happy 2012 Everyone!  Or, based on your belief system, make the most of the 11 1/2 months you have left before the world explodes or vaporizes or whatever fun ending the Mayans had in store for us.  (If the Mayans were so smart, where the hell are they today?)

For us, we're hoping 2012 will be the year we complete our family and adopt our second child.  For those of you who are waiting, especially for your first, take heart.  You spent 2011 doing all the mundane, taxing, mind numbing work you needed to do to get this far.  This year, you're past that, and 2012 will be a year of anticipation and change.  The ride of adoption isn't always a smooth one, but the beginning of a new year holds so much promise.  Right now, there may be a little life developing and growing that is destined to land in your hearts.  That's what I like to think; that somewhere an unborn heart beats, a future uncertain, a decision to be made.  Someone is agonizing at the beginning of this year, but will be relieved and at peace by year's end.  A child will land where he or she should be, and a family will be made or completed.  That's what I'm thinking of right now.  We don't know what promise this year holds for any of us, but for a spirit yet to be born, we're waiting for you.

A joyous and happy new year to all my followers.

B.

A Carefree Christmas

The town of Carefree, Arizona is just north east of Phoenix and about an hour from our house.  It has a very "new old West" feel to it in that it has many wild desert spaces intermingled with a small town setting.  That, and everything in the town is perfectly manicured and "set" for tourists.  It has a population that is very upper middle class and higher, and is filled with beautiful homes done in a modern adobe and southwest style.  The downtown is filled with art spaces, galleries, and craft stores that reflect the old west atmosphere that Carefree tries so hard to portray.  It's a pretty area, and at a slightly higher elevation then the Valley of the Sun it does get colder.  On some rare occasions there is snow topping the saguaro cactus and Joshua trees.  It's in Carefree that we spent this weekend relaxing before Santa arrives two weeks from now.

Two of the Dads that run the Carefree Resort sponsored an outing for our Phoenix Gay Dad's Group Saturday night.  We arrived in the afternoon to a beautiful suite and headed to an absolutely wonderful dinner in the main dining room of the resort.  Our hosts were two new dads of a five month old boy.  After the fantastic food and drinks, we hoped a shuttle to downtown Carefree for the annual Christmas parade and festival.  Due to the cold, Sabrina was attired in her cozy warm "New York" coat and mittens, her ever present blankie, and her blinking Christmas light necklace.  She loved the electric light parade, where every float and marcher was adorned with Christmas lights.  Elaborately decorated fire trucks, ponies, marching bands, and floats drove past us all lit up.  Being guests of the resort, we had front row seats.  Even the Grinch himself, America's toughest do nothing corrupt Sheriff Joe rode down the street in his gigantic monument to wasted taxpayer dollars, his tank, looking like that was the absolute last place he wanted to be.  (Until then I'd never heard booing at a Christmas parade, but...)  Based on the scowl on his face, I imagined the stick up his ass was candy cane striped.  But I digress...

Sabrina started the day at swimming school.  Arriving at the resort, we took a quick hike of the grounds.  The dinner had kids swarming all over and they laughed and played for two hours at least.  So that's why it was possible for her to fall asleep three quarters of the way through fire trucks and marching bands.  She waved at every single one, and as I watched the waving get slower and slower, I knew she'd never make it to the end.  Not to mention the after parade schedule was bouncy houses, playing in 25 tons of imported snow, and fire works with Santa.  Nope, at parade conclusion, we boarded the shuttle back to the resort.  Just as well cause I was freezing my cute little patootie off!

Turns out that was OK, because she awoke in our room just in time for Gregg to hear the fireworks starting.  Out on the balcony, we had the best view ever of the show.  Sabrina loved it, and has been shouting "Boom boom fireworks, boom boom!" all day.  Since she was awake, we went back down to the lobby in time to see some of the other families arriving back at the resort.  After another hour of running and playing with the kids, getting her to sleep after just one reading of The Cat in the Hat wasn't too hard at all.

This morning we got up and had a great breakfast at the hotel, then headed back to town to see what we missed the night before.  This worked out because it was not crowded at all, and we got to play in the snow and visit all the shops after all.  We even climbed a platform and rode snow discs down the steep hill to the bottom.  Of course, most people wouldn't sit a 2 1/2 year old on a round piece of plastic and push them down a hill, but I'm not most people.  Besides she insists on doing everything herself, so...

Santa's head on a platter

The Frosty Float

I think some kids worked hard on this one

Fun, and hygienic soap bubble snowflakes

Father-daughter Olympic tryouts

Flying solo.  She was so proud of herself!

The Potty Jar

Potty training is a lot slower than I thought it would be.  Sabrina's been using the potty for a while now, but she's not consistent about it.  If she's involved in any fun activity like coloring, dancing, or watching the Republican debates on TV and nature calls, into the diaper it goes.  And poop, I think she's done that twice on the pot; most of the time she's off in the corner hiding until she's finished and you begin to smell it.  Not unlike a Labrador retriever I can think of.  If only there was some reward, some sought after item I could tantalize her with to make her want to use the potty every time...

Something like this.

Since the above is not currently an option, we opted to create our own.  Off to Target we went, and returned with a plain glass jar.  To invest her in it, we got out the paints and stickers, and in no time at all, The Potty Jar became a reality.

Easily rivals some dusty gold box, and won't melt your face off.

No one's prouder of The Potty Jar than Sabrina, who is fond of telling people "Look, I painta' dis Potty Jar," whenever you enter the bathroom.  We filled the Jar with the toddler world's gold standard of healthy snacks, Swirly Fruit Roll Ups.  If you haven't seen them, picture taking six colors of fluorescent Play-Dough, mixing them, adding a metric ton of sugar, and then rolling it all flat with a rolling pin.  The resultant "Potty Prize" is relished by toddlers and dentists everywhere.  Now all we had to do is promise a Potty Prize after each successful whizzing, and potty training's a snap.  Not so fast...

While Sabrina loves getting a potty prize for going potty she's still not committed, and some unexpected ground rules have appeared in our little game of potty cat and mouse.  For example, if there are more delicious treats to be had elsewhere, who cares about potty prizes or even going potty at all.  So home made Christmas cookies are like potty training kryptonite.  We also quickly realized that Fruit Roll Ups are not what you want to feed a 2 1/2 year old right before bed.  On more than one occasion we've had to scramble to substitute out a less sugary treat.

Like this unsweetened cat food.

There's also the dreaded sit and wait.  As in, gee I'd love a Potty Prize, but I don't have to pee.  Let's see how long they'll let me sit here until I do something.  So we've had 30 minute waits.  In the end it pays off, but sheesh!  I haven't spent that much time in the bathroom since I was a teenager.

All in all we're making some progress.  When it comes to potty training, eventually everything comes out OK.

What Do Kids Know Anyway?

I got a text message from my sister today, out of the blue, which said,

"Hey Bob...I talked to the kids and we decided that you guys don't have to do gifts for them this year...We want you to put it towards the adoption."

I was moved by that.  Our nieces are 16 and 13, and our nephew is 10.  They really don't live that far away, but we don't always get to see them as often as we should.  They know adoption is complicated, and they know it's expensive.  They also know it's important to us that we complete our family, and they love their little cousin.  I called my sister this afternoon and told her to thank them, but we know when Santa stops here he'll drop off some stuff for the kids anyway.  That's just how he rolls.

This year, one of the things I'm thankful for (and proud of) is that I have kids like that in my family.

That

Well something like 30 people voted on the last post regarding our "main" photo for our birth mother letter, and the votes were overwhelmingly for Picture 2.  Nothing personal rest of the Internet, but we're going with Picture 1.

Me and My Mooks

We chose this one because of the eye contact, and the fact that it looks so vibrant.  The one drawback is the bit of space between me and Sabrina, but I think that's outweighed by how much the picture seems to engage the viewer.  The main photo is meant to be a visual greeting from us to a potential birth mother and I think this one gets to that feeling.  The second picture is adorable, but it shows us as a happy family; I don't think it brings the viewer into the photo quite like this one does.

We went over these and about 80 other pictures with our adoption counselor today and narrowed the field down to about 18 candidates to be included on our letter.  Those and about 20 others will go onto our eventual adoption website.  We're already done with the letter text, so I hope to take the next two weeks to put together the actual brochure.  After submitting our final bit of paperwork, we hope to be live by the end of November.  Then the real journey begins, and I'm so glad I have you guys to share it with!

This or That?

With the text of our "Dear Birthmother" letter approved, it's time to work on pictures.  I've uploaded a bunch to a sharing site and we'll discuss them with our adoption agency sometime later this week.  The most important one is the "Main Profile Pic" which will grace the cover of our letter.  Here is the one we used last time, after I don't know how many tries...

Nice, but what's my left hand doing?

We've narrowed our personal choice down to two photos.  Please weigh in with your comments on which one you think you'd like better, with the mindset that you are a birth mother looking for a family to potentially place your as yet unborn child with.  Why do you like one better than the other?

Picture 1

Picture 2

*Pictures taken by our good friend John Morey from John Morey Photography.

Proper Pumpkin Painting

Forget Halloween colors.  These are girly pumpkins.

Cut the Blue Wire!

What's wrong with this picture?

The language explosion in the second year of life is amazing.  We have video of Sabrina on her second birthday in April, and while she's able to talk pretty well, the last few months have seen her increase her vocabulary by leaps and bounds.  Short sentences come flooding out of her mouth now at an almost Sarah Palin level of comprehension.  (OK, OK, I know some of you like Sarah Palin and I admit comparing her to a toddler isn't fair.  One of them is only now learning about the world and using newly developed language skills to form simple sentences, and the other one is a toddler.)  But we've now reached a new level: Negotiation.

Bedtime in our home as I like to define it is the period of time between getting Sabrina's pajamas on and enjoying a glass of wine on the couch.  Sometimes it's quick and painless, and sometimes...well sometimes it isn't.  On those occasions that period can be filled with crying, screaming, and stomping of feet, and that's just from me and Gregg.  When she doesn't want to go to bed, she let's you know it.  Last night, however, a different scene was set.

The normal routine is pajamas, teeth cleaning ("Brusha-Brusha"), saying good night to Papa, quiet reading of a bedtime story (or two or three) in her room, lights out, one or two songs, and off to sleep.  Since Gregg cooks the dinners, my job is the story-song-sleep bit.  I'll usually sit in the room with her for a little bit until I'm sure she's about to head off to sleep and then quietly step out.  If you don't hear anything from her within about a minute, you're golden and Malbec here I come.  Otherwise, let the games begin. 

Last night I tip toed out of the room, shut the door, and headed down the hall.  I stopped and waited to see which way tonight was going to go.  After about a minute, her door opened a crack and she stood there in her most innocent pose wearing her Frog Princess nightgown and clutching her blanket.  Silent.

I walked over and she didn't come out of her doorway but just stood there.  I bent down and gave her a kiss and said "What's the matter Chipmunk?".

"Daddy, I can't sleep anymore."

"Well you haven't been to sleep yet, so I think you should try again."

"Um, Daddy?"

"Yes Sabrina?"

"Um, I can't sleep anymore."

You know how every action movie has that inevitable scene where the hero is trying to diffuse the bomb and it's down to cutting the red or blue wire, and you hold your breath knowing if he cuts the wrong one all hell will break loose?  That's what went through my mind as I cut the parental blue wire by taking her hand and saying, "Well let's go back in bed and see if you can sleep some more".  I braced for a tantrum, or at least a scream, but none came.  Silence as we walked back into the dark room towards the bed.

"Daddy?", she said softly, now sitting on the bed.

"Yes Sabrina?"

"I don't want to go to bed."

"I know that, but everybody is sleeping because it's night time, and that's what we do at night."

"Is Ripley sleeping?"

"Yes, Ripley is sleeping."

"Is Chase sleeping?"

"Yes, Chase is sleeping too."

"Is..."  We now launch into a list of almost every person we know and what their sleep status is at the moment.  I realize she's stalling, but we're back to cutting the blue wire.  Let her ramble and look for a way to get her back in bed, or cut her off and risk her wrath?  When we get into inanimate objects, I make my move. 

"Is moon and stars sleeping?"  A-ha!  She messed up--she could have started on a long list of Sesame Street characters and kept this up all night, but instead she asked an open ended question.  I pounced on her inexperienced negotiating skills.

"No the moon and stars are up in the sky watching us while we sleep to help us have good dreams.  Here why don't you lay back down and I'll tuck you in."  Take that!  I bet her head is spinning on her rookie mistake.  But wait...she's pulling the trump card...the most cliched, hackneyed phrase in the history of the war on bedtime...her head half way to the pillow, she looked up at me and calmly checkmated her opponent by saying...

"Daddy I have a drink?"

Noooo!  She's taken this thing nuclear!  Before I even realized I'd swallowed the bait she was sitting straight up and I was half way to the door to get a cup of water.  How did this happen?

She did lay back down after the water, and three choruses of Winnie the Pooh's theme song, but reappeared at her door several times after I'd snuck out and we had to repeat selected portions of our dialogue.  Gregg was laying in bed watching TV, and getting ready to go to sleep early anyway, so all three of us won in our own way.  Sabrina got to go cuddle with Papa, Gregg got a quiet night cuddling with Sabrina as they fell to sleep together, and I...I got what I wanted in the first place.  An evening to myself with a glass of vino...Hmmmmmm.

Late night shenanigans make for a sleepy breakfast.

At the Car Wash...

Some parents forget why they had children.  I didn't.

Just like finger paints.  Really.

OK honey but the other kids all scrub just a little bit harder.  You don't want them to have more fun than you right?

Daddy it's hot...

Finish up honey and when you're vacuuming the inside I'll put on the air.

Building character starts at a young age.

*No toddlers were harmed in the making of this blog post.  While I did need my car washed, it's not like I shipped her off to Nike or called up Kathy Lee Gifford and bragged about her sewing skills.

Well?

Well?  Well things are rolling along here with Project Baby, the Sequel.  We were notified that our home study has been approved by the court, which means for the next 18 months we are legally able to adopt a child.  We've finished our medical clearances, and sent the first draft of our birth mother letter to the agency for approval and guidance.  We still have to watch a video and take an exam that will teach us how to parent in an interracial family in case our second child is not the same race as one of us.  Yeah, I know.  The way I figure it, I have an interracial parent/child relationship, but Gregg doesn't, so he should have to watch the video alone while I head to a Labor Day BBQ or something.  It's a hoop.  We'll jump through it.

We won't be done with preliminary gigantic monthly payments to the adoption agency until November so technically nothing can happen until after that.  Right now we're gathering pictures for our letter, and a friend of ours who is a photographer is coming over in two weeks to do a photo shoot with us for our main picture.  If you've been with me a while you'll remember what our last letter looked like.  This one has to be four pages instead of two and frankly will look a little nicer I think.  Last time we matched off of our letter in three weeks of being in circulation, so we want to make sure this one hits the mark as well.

It's funny; we've been performing the steps necessary to reach our goal of having a baby for some months now, but it's only since our home study has been approved that I have those butterflies banging away in my stomach telling me a baby could join our family as soon as the beginning of the year.  Of course it could take a lot longer, but we've crossed a threshold that has started those old feelings creeping up on me again.  We have a ways to go and a forest of red tape to cut through, but we're definitely on the way again...

Twin Elephants of the Apocalypse

Our previous inflatable pool met it's demise earlier this summer when it was slashed by either a desert tortoise or a Labrador retriever.  No one's copping to it.

Prime suspects

Today we got a new one, complete with elephant water slide and trunk sprinkler. 



Rickety and Wobbly, your fun summer pals!

Now as everyone knows, real fun always has an element of danger, like riding in the very front of the roller coaster or Christmas fishing with Scott Peterson.  The Chinese must have had that in mind when they came up with the Spray N' Splash Elephant Slide.  It looked like fun on the box, with the inflatable elephant slide that sprays water from the trunk.  I figured since it's a water toy, most of the toxic lead finish the Chinese use to shine it up will probably wash off after a few uses.  Summer toddler fun!

Even using our air compressor, this thing took about half an hour or more to blow up.  I made sure to fill it extra firm so it wouldn't squish down with the 35 pounds of toddler that would soon be jumping on it.  My original plan was to fill it, make lunch, then go swimming.  That ended when I suggested this to Sabrina, who responded with "No Daddy, I go down a slide".  No manner of cajoling was going to change her mind.  Knowing how to pick my battles, I decided we could eat lunch after swimming.  Unbeknownst to me, children are always hungrier after taking their lives in their grubby little hands.

Now this slide has two loops on it where you tie it down to the bottom of the pool to keep it from floating away.  To be fair, the instructions call that point out.  What they don't point out is that the slide is as unstable as Michelle Bachman at a gay Pride parade.  It turned out to be almost impossible for Sabrina to climb without my assistance.  Even with all the air I pumped into it, the sides are useless for holding on to and keeping steady.  One wrong turn and it would come tumbling down, even with the two inches of safety string tied tight.  Usually it's the kid on the slide that holds her breath before hitting the water; in this case it was me.

Don't...Even...Breathe...

Works as designed.

When it did work without killing her, it was fun.  But this required lots of lifting and helping on the side of the father.  So much for relaxing in the chair.

And go...

The sprinkler part did work well.

Elephantastic!

Oh and I do apologize for the misleading title of this post.  By now you know I mean the pool by Twin Elephants of the Apocalypse.  Not these two:



Potty Mouth

Admit it...you're never happier than after taking a big, satisfying dump.  Don't believe me?  Just look at the smile on that over eager toilet.  He's as happy to see you poop as you are.  He even sings about it after you're finished.

Poop on me...

Sabrina's doing well on the potty, using it both home and at daycare about 75% of the time.  And when she does use it, you'd think she hit the lottery.  Squeals of "I did pee-pee!" with a big smile on her face as the potty sings along with glee, followed by telling anyone who'll listen.  And poop, well that's an event in itself.  Little kids and old people sure love to tell you about their pooping.  Sometimes we have to sit there awhile before anything comes out.  We know in advance it will be a wait because Sabrina will tell us "Papa, pee pee is stuck".  But that's OK, that's when we break out our copies of Elmo's Potty Tales and Men's Health and just wait it out.  Hey, you can even have a contest to see who poops first if you want.  There were a few times when it dragged out forever.  And yes, I admit it, I have asked her to please shit or get off the pot.  Nicely of course.  But I digress...

Since I'm taking some time off next week, I might try to see if we can get through an entire day of successfully using the potty and not wetting pants.  Perhaps a bribe of wearing big girl underwear.  Watching TV and using crayons are the danger zones, because if she gets too involved in either activity, well potty be damned.  I guess before we had DVR's and the ability to pause live TV that was an understandable, if not practical, choice.  But unless you're a toddler,  Betty White, or some crazy astronaut lady with a stalker complex, wearing diapers and peeing when you're distracted isn't really feasible. 

I think kids need to be ready for potty training.  We tried on and off since she turned two, but she only really started to get into it in the last few weeks. We're pretty sure she'll be reliable quickly because once her stubbornness kicks in there is no stopping her.  I just hope once that happens she'll calm down about it.  I don't see too many executives running around the office screaming "I did poops!  I did poops!".  Well that one guy from shipping...

Happy to see you, or just dropped a deuce?

The War on Terror

In this family, we don't negotiate with terrorists.

Or at least try not to.  It seems that at 2 years and 2 months, the battle is beginning to heat up.

False promises are made...

National Leader:  If I let you have one more cookie, will you stop crying?
Terrorist:  I promise!
National Leader:  OK, here you go.
Terrorist:  More cookie!  *Anger and Tears*

Secretive Tactics are used to gain the upper hand...

National Leader:  I want you to finish all your broccoli.
Terrorist:  Mmmmm, bwok-wii.
The nation drops is guard, but soon re-engages the enemy.
National Leader:  Ahh, good you've eaten it all.  You can get down from your chair now.
The terrorist smiles deceptively.  Released from captivity, she waits until she's almost out of sight to pull up her shirt and allow a mother lode of bwok-wii to spill to the floor, rewarding her canine minions...

Fierce battles are fought, with little to no territory gained on either side...

National Leader:  I just want to change your diaper!
Terrorist:  Nooooooooo!!!!!
National Leader:  I'm not kidding you better come over here right now!
Terrorist:  (throwing everything within reach off her bed onto the floor)  No!  No!  No!  Arrrrrggghhhh!
National Leader:  OK if you don't come over here right now I'm going to waterboard give you a spanking!
Terrorist:  (screaming and crying)  No way!  (Jumping up and down.)
A valiant battle is waged by both sides, and in the end, once the diaper is changed, both sides forget the whole thing.

If you're not with us, you're against us...

Allied Nation:  Sabrina do you want some ice cream?
National Leader:  Mom, you just gave her a cupcake.
Allied Nation:  I know but she likes ice cream.
Terrorist:  Eye Keem!  Eye Keem!  (Jumping up and down with glee.)
National Leader:  No, you're not having ice cream you still have frosting on your cheeks from the cupcake.
Allied Nation:  Oh just let her have a little.
National Leader:  She doesn't need it.  And how come we could never have cupcakes and ice cream when we were little?
Allied Nation:  (Lying through her teeth)  Oh you kids got everything you wanted.  (To Terrorist)  Chocolate or Strawberry?
Terrorist:  Yippie whoo hoo horray!*
National Leader:  Sigh.

* I have no idea where she got that from...

In the heat of battle, true loyalties emerge...

National Leader:  No, and you better stop screaming.
Terrorist:  No no no no!  (Starts banging her tricycle against the front door)
National Leader:  OK that's enough where do you think you're going?
Terrorist:  G'ama house!  (crying) G'ama house!
National Leader:  Good go to Grandma's house!  It's not so great I grew up there you know.  They're fooling you!  I don't know who those people are that replaced my parents but move in and everything changes.  Ice cream and cupcakes will disappear and you'll be doing dishes and vacuuming in no time with zero privacy... (trailing off into territory only a trained therapist is qualified to tread on...)
Terrorist:  (The terrorist has heard only two words, stops crying and says)  Eye Keem?
National Leader:  No, you're certainly not getting ice cream!
Terrorist:  (screaming louder than ever)  Arrrgh!  Eye Keem!  Eye Keem!
National Leader:  Ugh...

The war will be long, and there will be casualties.  Eventually justice will prevail.  But we must be ever vigilant.  Pick our battles wisely.  And above all, realize the scorched earth policy of the terrorist will leave no furniture undamaged, electronic devices soaked in apple juice, and car keys slipped into the kitchen trash can when no one is looking.  Yes it will be a battle for our very souls, and we will fight on, only giving up when we realize it will be the terrorist who will some day choose our nursing home...

The terrorist has won...

Dust in the Wind...

...and your face, your car, house, streets, etc etc...

Since my last two posts are now weather related, you can see how exciting our summer is turning out to be so far.  We're in adoption paperwork limbo, although we're getting good at writing out gigantic checks again.  Here is video of last night's Duststorm (or haboob, if you want to be specific) that hit around 7 pm and is a normal part of our Arizona monsoon season.  This morning everything is covered in dirt, including the entire inside of the parking garage here at work.  (I mean at work, since of course I'm not typing this on company time.  Perish the thought!)  At 10,000 feet high with winds around 50 miles an hour, this was one of the bigger ones.  At least there was no rain...then the dirt is even harder to wash off. 

Sigh...

There is no point to this post except yeah, it's hot.  But at least you don't have to shovel heat.  Ugh.